


An Unwanted Job Offer

by Nonesane



Category: Leverage
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death Threats, Kidnapping, Miscommunication, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12904308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonesane/pseuds/Nonesane
Summary: Alec and Parker's lazy morning at home is cut short as they realize they haven't seen Eliot all day. It's been a long time since Eliot went MIA without leaving a note or a message. Where could he be?





	An Unwanted Job Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Wonderful art for this fic can be found [here](https://alexiane250.deviantart.com/art/Eliot-Spencer-Take-Down-718439313)!
> 
> Beta:d by the very helpful **favoriteoldestgranddaughter**! All mistakes are of course my own :)

”Alec, have you seen Eliot today?”  
  
“Hmm?” Hardison answered, eyes locked on his laptop screen. It wasn’t exactly something that demanded his full attention - hacking was a bit of hobby he’d started up more out of boredom than anything else - but he was in the zone.  
  
Parker leaned in over his shoulder. She wasn’t quite touching him, but her presence was enough to pull Hardison’s focus back to the offline world.  
  
Noting that she had his attention, Parker repeated: “Have you seen Eliot today?”  
  
“Nope.” Giving the hacking up for a lost cause, Hardison switched to checking up on some recently acquired stocks. “It’s not even night yet. He’s a big boy, he can leave if he wants to.” Especially as there was no ongoing mission to work on and the restaurant was doing fine.  
  
He switched over to checking his downloads. Patience still wasn’t his strong suit and there were a number of series he wanted to catch up on, without having to wait for official subtitles.  
  
“Do you think…” Hardison could see Parker’s frown reflected on the screen as she spoke. “Has Eliot been acting strange this week?”  
  
“He’s Eliot,” Hardison answered with a shrug, trying to figure out where she was going with this. Had he forgotten something? Was there a new case in the works? Or…?  
  
“No,” Parker said, either ignoring or not catching on to his sarcasm, “strange for Eliot.”  
  
Since there was a note of concern in her voice, Hardison took his hands off the keyboard and looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Parker rolled her eyes at his skepticism. “Well, he’s been gone since dawn and he’s left Rose in charge of the kitchen.”  
  
“Mmm-hmm.” To be honest, Hardison hadn’t really bothered with paying attention to who was in charge of the restaurant’s food, and when. That was Eliot’s area. Hardison was more concerned with figuring out new and interesting ideas for the place, which Eliot would sigh and curse about while working them into the restaurant's repertoire.  
  
One of Hardison’s alerts dinged, and he clicked on it to see if it was anything interesting. Not much of a challenge, sadly. His firewalls would deal with it.  
  
Behind him, he felt Parker straightening up. “Just thought it was a little odd,” she said, “since all your poking and prodding about shows that food critic is supposed to be coming tonight.” She hummed to herself as if shifting this thought aside to deal with later. “Oh well.”  
  
Hardison opened a new window and restarted his previous hacking attempt. He got five minutes into it before Parker’s last words caught up with him.  
  
“Wait, _what?!_ ”

***

Of course, The Butterfly would have chosen _tonight_ for their visit to the restaurant. Of fucking course.

Eliot grumbled to himself as he made his way to the fourth farmers market for that morning. He had no idea what The Butterfly looked like, but their intimidating reputation preceded them, silly nickname or no. Rose would have her work cut out for her unless he managed to get this done ten times quicker than he should.

Shouldering past a group of people he only gave an instinctive once over, Eliot made his way into the third market square of the day. The first farmer’s market had been set up in a mall, but he was desperate.

Grumbling to himself, Eliot began browsing the produce on sale. He needed fresh tomatoes - not what passed for fresh at the supermarket - or this would all fall apart.

“Mr. Spencer.”

Eliot hackles went up the moment he heard the voice. He didn’t recognize it, exactly, but he knew that tone of voice all too well.

“Not interested.” Eliot pretended to eye the tomatoes critically. Out of the corner of his eye, he sized up the man who’d spoken. He was the regular nondescript everyman who tended to get sent out to do these things; average height, casual, though clean, dress, no distinct facial features.

The man chuckled. “You haven’t even heard my proposition yet.”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Eliot gestured for the stall vendor and got himself a handful of tomatoes. The guy had to be either green as spring or stupid as all hell, because he didn’t leave.

“Mr. Spencer.”

Eliot didn’t whirl around. He really didn’t. He was better than that. Even if he was having a very stressful day, he wouldn’t let this guy get to him. Not him. Nuh-uh. Not happening.

“Mr.-”

“ _What,_ ” Eliot growled before taking a deep breath, getting his voice back under control. “What do you want?”

Around them, people had started giving them a wide berth. The average-looking guy didn’t seem to mind, which set off warning bells. Usually, people like him preferred to sneak up on unsuspecting victims in dark parking lots and in the twilight hours of fast food joints.

“Your services,” the man said. He was keeping his voice low, not calling any extra attention to them. At least that showed he wasn’t just trying to start a brawl. Though that would almost have been preferable to whatever this was.

Squaring his shoulders, Eliot shifted the weight of the bag of tomatoes onto his hip. It was hard to look intimidating while ladened with grocery bags but he’d had a lot of practice. “Better let your boss know their intel is very out of date. I’ve not offered my ‘services’ to anyone in a long time. Got a steady gig, not looking for any bonus money.”

The average looking guy smiled. “My employer is well aware of your current whereabouts and work. He’s quite impressed. But he’s also in need of your expertise.”

Looking up, Eliot noted that the sun was nearing its highest point. It seemed noon would be here and gone before this conversation was over. _I don’t have time for this._

“Look,” Eliot said, working on not gritting his teeth, “if it’s retrieval you want, I can recommend someone. If it’s,” he bit back the word that first had popped into his head, “ _something else_ , you’d better get away from me now. Got that?”

The guy’s smile didn’t falter. He didn’t so much as blink. “My employer doesn’t wish for a recommendation, he’s requested you. He’s not the kind of man who’s easy rejected.”

Eliot frowned. He really didn’t want to end up in a fight out in the open. Groceries rarely survived fights and he didn’t have time for more shopping. But if-

“Mr. Spencer, I think it would be wise if you took a look around yourself.”

Having kept his focus on the guy in front of him, in case he tried to go for a weapon, Eliot reluctantly let his attention stray elsewhere. No one had tried to surround them, that much was for sure. He wasn’t so out of shape that he lost all awareness of the crowd around him just because he had most of his attention on one opponent.

The crowd around them had kept milling about, showing no sign of noting anything amiss, other than the occasional glance his way. His stare-down with the guy had to be obvious if not causing alarm. But there was a clear difference from earlier which a trained eye couldn’t fail to miss; bright red dots darting across the market, brushing over people’s heads and backs. They were moving swiftly, glancing over one person, resting a second the back of a child’s head, only to move on.

Laser sights. _Fuck._ Today, of course this would have to happen today.

“It would be best to get moving before people notice and start running about screaming,” the guy said, smiling. “My shooter is rather trigger-happy, I fear, and might be tempted to go against orders.”

Eliot took a deep breath through his nose and counted down from ten. He wouldn’t crush the tomatoes he was holding because he had no time to get new ones. He’d have to deal with this and then get back. Piece of cake. Sure. Fine. Great.

“It seems I’ve forgotten to introduce myself,” the guy said, giving a polite nod. “I’m Henning Wolff. I think you’re coming with me, Mr. Spencer.”

Giving Wolff his best glare, Eliot answered: “For now.”

***

“He has been kinda off, lately,” Hardison said, again, mostly to stave off panic.  
  
“I said that.”  
  
Hardison nodded. “Yeah, you did. I should have listened. Sorry.” The last thing they needed right now was to get distracted by a fight. Or an argument, as Sophie liked to call them. Talking things out might be healthy for relationships but it was useless when you had a missing person situation to deal with.  
  
Not that Eliot was _missing_. They just didn’t know exactly where he was, which wasn’t new. Eliot could be a really private person. But he usually told them when he was about to go MIA for a while, gave them some way to contact him if a job came up.  
  
“Right, so, right.” Hardison closed down all the windows open on his laptop until only a tracking program was left. He’d hoped Eliot would have been wearing his earpiece, but no such luck. “What do we do?”  
  
“We think.” Parker said, very matter-of-factly. “Rose said Eliot came rushing into the kitchen at 5 this morning, looking like he was in a hurry. He asked her to cover for him last minute, despite what’s at stake, but said he hopes he’ll be available to jump in, should things go south. He then left without a word about where he was going.”  
  
“Not exactly out of character,” Hardison muttered. Eliot and grumpy went together like peanut butter and jam, “if we weren’t talking about the restaurant. You know, sometimes I think he’s more invested in it than I am.”  
  
Parker gave him her default deadpan look. “He is. Which means there must be something very important dragging him away from this. We need to check who he’s been in contact within the last 24 hours. Likely 12 hours, seeing as he’s usually better at planning when he leaves like this.”  
  
Not that Eliot had left, at all, since Sophie and Nate retired. But Hardison was approaching true panic, not just the mildly stressful energy-giving kind, so he pushed that thought aside with a will.  
  
“You want me to check Eliot’s phone calls?” He’d do it, of course, but it did feel a little iffy, like an invasion of privacy. It had been one thing to do it back when they were coworkers and then casual friends. Now they were…well, _close_ friends. That seemed different, somehow.  
  
“Incoming and outgoing,” Parker said, no hesitation. “I’ll go talk more with the staff, make a few calls to check if there’s something big going on. See you in half an hour!”  
  
She left the room with swift strides, leaving Hardison with his unhelpful tracking program.  
  
He sat there and tried to straighten his thoughts out. He shouldn’t be this freaked out, should he? Eliot was the least likely person to get himself in over his head. He could get himself out of a scrap better than most - better than everyone Hardison ever had met. So why worry? Maybe give him a helping hand, should he need one, but no worrying necessary!  
  
He managed to convince himself of that for about two minutes. Then he dug into Eliot’s phone records like there was no tomorrow.

***

Eliot’s phone rang again for the third time. He stubbornly kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, careful not to let his neutral expression slip. The wall to the left of Wolff’s head was gray and made of steel just like the rest of the van, but Eliot had already seen all he needed to when it came to his escort. The two armed men seated on either side of him on the bench were nervous but professional, and the same could be said about the two men next to Wolff on the bench across from him. No use in trying to unnerve them further with movement - better to do so by sitting utterly and completely still.  
  
“Your associates seem eager to get a hold of you,” Wolff said, smiling. “Why don’t you answer? It could be important.”  
  
Eliot didn’t roll his eyes at this, but only because he knew he was better than that. Really. He’d dealt with a lot worse idiots than this, right? Right.  
  
“I thought you knew who I work with,” he chose to say, going for careful provocation. It wouldn’t do if he came back to the restaurant tonight with cracked ribs or bloodied knuckles. This was embarrassing (and infuriating) enough as things stood. He might have chanced it if it wasn’t clear Wolff still had the sniper engaged.  
  
The statement got him a raised eyebrow from Wolff, along with an amused quirk added to his smile. “I do know, Mr. Spencer. A great compliment to your own skills, I’m sure.”  
  
“And a great headache for you, if you try to mess with them. Just a friendly warning.” Again he focused on keeping his poker face. Hardison and Parker needed this guy to go after them like they needed a hole in the head - especially today!  
  
He spared a moment to feel regret for his groceries, taken by one of Wolff’s mooks and placed God knew where. The tomatoes were likely all bruised.  
  
“I’m guessing this is your gentle way of telling us not to offer your… _coworkers_ a share in this job.” Wolff sure could smile in that shark-like way only the worst recruiters could. “Their help would be welcome but I’m sure you can handle it on your own.”  
  
Eliot counted backward from ten. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that one of the guards kept glancing down at his rifle. That one would be the weak link if things fell apart. Could have been useful in another situation. In this one, however, he’d likely put bullets in all of them the moment Eliot threw the first punch.  
  
Stifling a sigh, Eliot settled for trying to think of a way to salvage the dinner he’d had planned. They had ingredients to spare at the restaurants but it would feel wrong to serve the same thing The Butterfly would be eating. Parker and Hardison had completely different pallets than professional food critics.  
  
This test of skill kept him busy all the way to wherever they were going. The van slowed down gently, the driver clearly aware that they had a lot of armed and nervous people in the back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
The second the van had come to a stop, Wolff stood up and straightened out his jacket, brushing imaginary lint off one shoulder. His smile had turned from shark to slightly friendlier shark and he said:  
  
“It’s time to meet your new employer.”  
  
Eliot might have rolled his eyes at that. Maybe. There is only so much a man can take, after all.

***

“Oh no. No no no no no no!”  
  
“What?” Parker demanded, folding down from where she hung from the beam they’d put up across the office’s ceiling.  
  
Hardison glared at his computer, willing the CCTV camera images to change. “Remember how I said all calls Eliot made yesterday were to grocery stores and people who had stalls at the local farmers' markets?”  
  
Parker made a noise one could interpret as a yes if one had known Parker for long enough.  
  
“See this?” He unplugged his laptop and held it up for Parker to see; upside-down for her, but that was hardly a problem. The screen held three black and white images of a marketplace, each with Eliot’s familiar face framed by a yellow square somewhere in the crowd.  
  
Parker frowned. “What am I looking at?”  
  
“I downloaded copies from all CCTV cameras at the places Eliot called, and some others just to be safe, and set my facial recognition software on searching him out. They’re all public places, so it wasn’t exactly hard to hack. And this,” he tapped the top of the screen for emphasis, “is his last known location.”  
  
The pictures weren’t exactly high quality, but Hardison prided himself on making the very best search algorithms, specialized for finding his team members - because of situations just like this one.  
  
“And who’s that guy?” Parker asked, pointing to the man next to Eliot in the last two pictures. They were clearly talking and Eliot was angry in that quiet way he sometimes got when he knew throwing a punch would make everything worse. It was one of those expressions you really didn’t want to see him have because it tended to mean they were in actual trouble and not just being delayed.  
  
“That,” Hardison said, doing his best to not twitch or fiddle with anything - that would give away how worried he was to Parker in less than a second. “That is Henning Wolff. His last known employer, from what I’ve been able to dig up, is the local mob. Specifically, a guy called Abele Dioli. He’s…bad news.”  
  
Parker’s frown deepened and she reached up to grab hold of the beam with her hands, letting herself drop to the floor with more force than she usually allowed. “You think Wolff offered Eliot a job. And that Eliot took it?”  
  
Hardison met her eyes and realized he’d been drumming his fingers on the keyboard for the at least a couple of seconds. Busted.  
  
“No, you don’t,” Parker continued before he could say anything. “You think it’s something worse. What?”  
  
“I do think it was a job offer…” Hardison said, turning his eyes back to the screen and the grayscaled marketplace on display.  
  
Parker shook her head, but not in a way that meant she was disagreeing with him. “I called around. Dayan said there aren't any open job offers here for her specific skill set. Quinn backed that up. Which means…”  
  
“…this offer was just for Eliot. Yeah.” Hardison squeezed his eyes shut for a second in a futile attempt to stave off the mounting tension headache. “Look at this.”  
  
He zoomed in, as much as he could on the grainy images, leaving Eliot’s face the center of the frame. “Can you tell what he’s looking at?”  
  
Parker leaned in over his shoulder, squinting at the blurry picture. “To the right, at that girl over there. This is the last picture of him, isn’t it?”  
  
Hardison nodded, swallowing. His throat had gotten dry as sandpaper all of a sudden. Which was ridiculous because even if he was in trouble Eliot could take care of himself. It’s sort of what he did. “The pictures are taken at three-minute intervals. Wolff and Eliot are gone in the next picture, but the girl is still there, still waiting on her mom, or whoever, to finish haggling with that lettuce vendor. But there is one clear difference.”  
  
Tapping a few keys, Hardison brought up three images; the two they’d just been looking at, and a third one, taken right before Eliot’s last one.  
  
“Now, this girl shows up here, in the first images, three minutes before Eliot goes with Wolff,” Hardison said, pointing the girl out with a pencil he’d grabbed off his desk. He needed something to fiddle with or he’d not be able to sit still for this. “She moves a little between that picture and this one, the last one with Eliot and Wolff, and a little more before the third picture, but luckily for us, she stays facing the camera.”  
  
Anyone else might have echoed “Lucky?” at him in either sarcasm and confusion - Eliot would likely have done both - but Parker remained silent, waiting for him to explain.  
  
“See this color change here?” He pointed with the pencil at the girl’s jacket, where one of the gray pixels was a shade lighter than the rest. “That could be a glitch, of course. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Eliot’s looking right at it.” He trailed a line between Eliot’s scowling face and the pale dot on the girl’s jacket.  
  
Parker folded her arms across her chest, her expression blank. Hardison waited, taking his pen apart and putting it back together. It wasn’t exactly a fidget cube, but it was better than nothing.  
  
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked after a few seconds of silence, unable to keep quiet. That he couldn’t get Eliot’s face out of his mind wasn’t strange, seeing as he was staring directly at it in picture form, but while he couldn’t deny said face could get his heart racing, that expression set his pulse to a very unpleasant pace.  
  
Parker fished a phone out of her pocket. She didn’t put a hand on Hardison’s shoulder, but the determined look she gave him was comfort enough. “I think we need to deal with a sniper, and then go pay Abele Dioli a visit.” 

***

The safe house looked like most mob safe houses Eliot had visited; warehouse by the docks, nondescript, full of people armed to the teeth. The only thing that stood out where the signs of panic room enhancements at each door they passed - small blinking lights at the top of the door frames and slits for what Eliot suspected were metal shields, ready to lower and lock people out (or in) at the press of a button.  
  
A dozen guns and a huge-ass panic room. This day was not getting any better.  
  
They’d passed through two corridors and three doors when they finally arrived at something akin to a “sluice”; a small room without guards where the door ahead of them was covered by a metal sheet. When they stepped inside, the door behind them closed and similar metal sheet rushed down to block it.  
  
Eliot didn’t flinch. This whole experience had been too predictable to bother with such things. Instead, he gave the room a quick visual once-over, not finding any cameras or signs of bugs.  
  
“It’s to give Dioli time to prepare,” Wolff said as if Eliot had asked for clarification. “I suspect he’s been…busy today, and wants to clean up before having visitors enter.”  
  
“Or wants enough time to line up a firing squad on the other side of that door.” There wasn’t much room to dodge to the side if worse should come to worse. Wolff would make for a bit of cover, but…yeah, he didn’t want to go there. Better to wait and see.  
  
“There’s no risk for that,” Wolff said, shark-smile firmly in place. “Dioli doesn’t trust large numbers of men armed with guns. Friendly fire and all that. He’ll have a few bodyguards around, but they’ll at most be armed with knives. Seeing as the two of us currently are being scanned for firearms, he’s not too worried about those sort of things.”  
  
Eliot closed his eyes, not wanting to believe his ears. He knew that tone of voice, that self-confident and smug undertone.  
  
As if being asked to do a hit for the mob hadn’t been a bad enough prospect.  
  
“Exactly why am I here?” he asked, looking at Wolff over his shoulder.  
  
Wolff didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. “Dioli thinks you’re here to start working for him.”  
  
“But…?”  
  
“I’d rather you work for me.” Seriously, that smile had to hurt. Would possibly hurt more if Eliot clocked him, but right now was not a good time. The room was less than three by three meters and Wolff looked like he could take a punch or five, despite not being a field agent.  
  
“So you’re double-crossing your boss at his safe house, filled with his bodyguards?”  
  
“Filled with _my_ bodyguards,” Wolff said, grin going from shark to shit-eating. “It’s amazing what a little cash can do. But I need this to look convincing, for the sake of those not yet on my payroll. They’ll definitely trust that the people inside that room couldn’t stop _the_ Eliot Spencer from snapping their boss’ neck. We’ll make it look good. All you have to do is go in there, get the job done, and get out. Piece of cake for you, I assume?”  
  
Eliot wanted to bang his head against the wall, but very stoically restrained himself. “Plenty of big names in this business. Why me?”  
  
Wolff shrugged. “You’re local,” he said, very nonchalant, “and Dioli has been out on deep water these past few weeks. Everyone knows there are limits you can’t push with people like you and your crew in town. He’ll drag us down with him - I intend to keep the boat afloat.”  
  
Right, they had meant to go after Dioli, hadn’t they? But this…this was just a stupid plan. Why did he have to run into so many morons? How many idiots could one planet sustain?  
  
With a sound of steel scraping against steel, the metal shield on the door before them began to slide upward, much slower than it had gone down.  
  
Wolff had dialed back his smile to ‘polite amusement’. “After you.”  
  
Eliot took a deep breath through his nose. He didn’t have time for this. It had to be at least 11 am by now. He should be in a kitchen trying to salvage his dinner plans, as well as getting the staff psyched up for The Butterfly. Someone was going to pay for this. Soon.

***

“Done?”  
  
Parker nodded, throwing the dismembered sniper rifle on Lucille’s floor as if it were a cockroach. Actually, scratch that, as if it were a sniper rifle. Parker never seemed to mind cockroaches much.  
  
Hardison moved to take off his headphones but paused when Parker shook her head. “I’ll drive,” she said.  
  
He had to admit that brought on a brief tingle of panic. Only a small twitch really. He trusted her. She was just…scary good at driving very fast and very recklessly. Especially if you were seated in the back with a computer.  
  
“Be careful with my girl, okay?”  
  
Another nod in answer. She looked distracted so Hardison doubted she’d gotten the double-meaning of his words this time around. That sniper must have said something they’d need to talk about. But later.  
  
Hardison did a quick double-check that everything that needed to be strapped down was before Parker started the van. He just managed to get himself strapped in - a very handy feature added the last time they had to hack and dash at the same time - when Lucille took off, tires screeching. Any other day, Hardison would have complained loudly at this mistreatment of his baby, even when it was Parker behind the wheel. This time, however, he just wanted her to go faster.  
  
In less than twenty minutes they came to an equally screeching stop. The moment they’d gotten in range, Hardison had gotten busy with his part of this job and was more than ready now that they’d arrived.  
  
Parker opened the door to Lucille’s back, and without preamble said: “We ready?”  
  
“I’ve got everything under control here. Go get him back, baby girl!”

*** 

Five bodyguards. Eliot had seen worse odds. Wolff might join if the fight turned against his plan, but that would likely even out with Dioli in the mix - the mob boss in question looked to be in shape and armed with at least three knives.  
  
“So, this is the famous Eliot Spencer.” Dioli didn’t move from his seat, only nodded to Eliot with faux politeness. Eliot judged Dioli to be about his height when standing and only slightly less broad. Dioli was clearly playing it safe. One of his bodyguards stood right behind him, two flanked him and the final two stood on either side of the door Eliot and Wolff had entered through.  
  
Taking this in, Eliot merely returned the nod, letting most of his focus stay on scanning the room. It was sparsely furnished, only one chair for Dioli and no wall decorations, so there would be no makeshift weapons to be had. The bodyguards had at least one knife each. There were also cameras mounted on two of the walls, tiny red lights signaling that they were active and recording. A fairly standard intimidation tactic, and an explanation as to why Wolff wanted Eliot to fight the lot of them and break Dioli’s neck - if they got it on camera and it looked good no underlings would be likely to question it.  
  
“Not much of a talker, eh?” Dioli said, apparently aiming for all the Bad Guy Cliches he could recall. “That’s not a problem. You seem the sort of man who can get things done without useless chit chat.“ His smile was less shark and more smug snake…Eliot suspected he needed to stop letting Hardison recommend books to him because the animal similes were getting out of hand.  
  
Either ignorant of or ignoring Eliot’s utter lack of interest in what he had to say, Dioli continued: “A former colleague of mine took something with him when he left our association; quite hastily and without warning, mind you. I would like you to get my property back, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, and I’m ready to pay your usual fee.”  
  
It had been a good while since Eliot actively went looking for work outside of Leverage Inc. Most of his old employers seemed to have gotten that memo, but apparently not this guy. Probably too new on the scene - though old enough to already have pissed off his second in command. Typical.  
  
“What details would you-”  
  
Dioli was cut short by the metal shield to the room’s only door shutting with a loud bang, much faster than it had moved previously. On the walls, the camera lights went out.  
  
“What the-?!”  
  
“Get those cameras turn back on! Spencer, this will not fulfill the deal!”  
  
“What deal?! Wolff, explain yourself!”  
  
Eliot backed up, making sure he ended up with his back to a wall without anybody behind him. The bodyguards had drawn their knives but looked at Wolff and then Dioli in pure confusion. They didn’t seem too eager to attack anyone.  
  
“I think you two have a lot to talk about,” Eliot said, watching Wolff and Dioli circle each other like wolves. They both jumped as gunshots were fired in other parts of the building, the bodyguards following their example. Eliot gritted his teeth. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. Why had he left his earpiece at home again?  
  
Dioli grabbed a phone out of his pocket while waving a knife at Wolff with his other hand. Before anyone could react - well, Eliot didn’t intend to - Dioli had pressed a speed dial button and was shouting: “We’re being betrayed! Send-”  
  
Wolff dove for him, along with four of the five bodyguards. The fifth kept to a corner, eyes wide and knife-hand trembling. There was a moment of frozen time as Dioli fell, taking Wolff and the bodyguards with him. Then it became a free-for-all.  
  
In his element, Eliot dodged and struck out, occasionally leaving himself open to a punch or two to draw the pile of flailing arms and legs apart. Pulling Dioli out of the mess was less than easy, but not exactly impossible.  
  
He had two of the bodyguards unconscious on the ground and Dioli next to him when the metal shield pulled up again, just as swiftly as it had fallen, leaving the door free.  
  
“Move!” He pushed Dioli forward, disarming Wolff with a well-placed blow. Dioli scrambled for the door, throwing himself through it with Eliot right on his heels. The gunfire outside was still going strong, but moving about the corridors in what sounded like no clear pattern.  
  
Dioli threw himself at the other door in the small room. Eliot could all but feel the bodyguards and Wolff breathing down his neck and just managed to slide under the second metal shield as it came down at breakneck speed.  
  
A familiar figure towered over him where he lay on the floor, an unscrewed grate lying on the floor next to her in a telltale manner.  
  
“Parker!”  
  
“Yes, Parker,” said Parker. “Why aren’t you wearing your earpiece?”  
  
“…long story,” Eliot answered, hoping the gunfire behind them would distract from that question. “Where is Hardison?”  
  
“Out back, calling in six different 911 calls about this shootout at the docks.”  
  
“Hardison who? He’s what?!”  
  
“You.” Parker fixed Dioli with a glare so cold it likely could have frozen water solid. “Shut up. He the one who ordered the sniper, Eliot?”  
  
“No,” Eliot answered, getting up off the floor. He’d scraped his elbows up pretty well, but all in all not that bad.  
  
“Then you don’t matter,” Parker said. “Or you wouldn’t have if you weren’t so fond of blackmailing and getting kids killed. Better start running.”  
  
Dioli stared at her for a second or two before whirling around and rushing down the hall, towards the gunfire.  
  
Parker watched him go, unimpressed. “Hardison monitored the cameras in Dioli’s room until we shut them down. Henning Wolff cooked this up?”  
  
Eliot gave a curt nod, doing his best to not show how embarrassment and pride were tugging at him. Wolff and the bodyguards were banging their fists against the metal shield to his right, and down the hall, it sounded like the rest of Dioli’s crew were shooting at ghosts; no cries of pain, just freaked out yelling.  
  
“Hardison is watching over the cameras,” Parker said, pointing up. “He’s got the panic room system under control, so he’ll shut them behind us as we leave. Ready to get out of here?”  
  
Eliot glanced around the corridor, hesitated, and said: “Have you seen a bag of groceries around here?”

***

The three of them stood leaning against Lucille as the cops escorted Dioli, Wolff and their underlings into waiting cars, handcuffed and being read their rights.  
  
Parker had played concerned bystander to a T earlier, with Hardison acting the worried boyfriend who’d showed up to take her home after the police questioning, while Eliot stayed in the van and wrapped up his elbows (Hardison and Parker had insisted).  
  
“That should be that then,” Hardison said, withdrawing his control of the panic room system, and making sure to clean up any traces of his program. “Now we’ve only got to…” He shrugged and gestured at Lucille. Thankfully, Parker didn’t need further clarification.  
  
They found Eliot pulling on a shirt from the spare set of clothes they had stored in the van. He froze as they entered and closed the van doors behind them.  
  
“So,” Hardison said, arm crossed over his chest. He hoped he looked more like his Nana giving someone a lecture than himself at thirteen trying to outdo her at stern looks and failing miserably. “Care to explain why you went and got yourself kidnapped this morning?”  
  
Eliot huffed and avoided eye-contact in that typical grumpy body language he slipped into when he was uncomfortable or angry. “I wasn’t kidnapped. I’d have…” He shook his head. “Thanks for the help.”  
  
“We’re a team - teams look out for each other,” Parker said, mirroring Hardison’s stance. “We’re not angry, but why did you leave your earpiece at home? You didn’t answer when I asked you inside.”  
  
The look that comment earned them was what Hardison liked to call ‘Angry Cornered Wolf.’ But it quickly melted away into further embarrassment. “I said it was a long story.”  
  
“Which isn’t an answer,” Hardison said, frowning. What was with all this avoidance? Had they missed something?  
  
“Exactly.” Parker took a step closer, leaning forward into Eliot’s personal space. “And why were you looking for groceries?”  
  
Eliot scrubbed a hand across his face. “It was supposed to be a surprise. You know what day it is.”  
  
Hardison’s train of thought derailed and crashed in a fiery explosion. Sneaking a glance at Parker he noted she’d been thrown off track as well. Eliot let his hand fall from his face and stared at them in tired disbelief.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” he said, deadpan. “It’s your anniversary today!”  
  
Wait, what? “What?”  
  
“Uhm,” Parker said, joining him in his confusion.  
  
Eliot threw his arms up, not evening flinching though it had to have stretched the skin on his injured elbows. “I can’t believe I’m the one who has to keep track of the landmarks of _your_ relationship. You had nothing planned at all, did you?”  
  
But they hadn’t started dating until…Oh. Oh! Oh, Eliot.  
  
Hardison shared a look with Parker, who gave him a nod. Seemed they at least were on the same page.  
  
“Nope,” Hardison said, allowing himself a smile that might have been a little smug, “today ain’t our anniversary.”  
  
“Hardison is right,” Parker said, her posture relaxing. “Our anniversary is next month.”  
  
Eliot squinted his eyes as if the both of them had gotten blurry. “Did you hit your head or something?”  
  
“Eliot,” Hardison said “ _our_ anniversary is next month. Okay?”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Nope, next month. The sixteenth.”  
  
Parker ruffled Eliot’s hair and Hardison pulled him into a hug. Eliot didn’t resist.  
  
Hardison sighed into Eliot’s ear and smirked as that got him a shiver. “Let’s get you home before Rose tears all her hair out. You can start planning our anniversary dinner next week, all right?”  
  
“…yeah, all-”  
  
Hardison dove in for a kiss, which left Eliot blinking like an owl as he let go. Parker took her turn immediately after, pushing Eliot down into the chair.  
  
“You get started without me, boys,” she said as she broke away, grinning. “I’ll make sure we get home quick.”  
  
Hardison smiled as he watched Parker leave. He reached out to pull Eliot into another hug, just to feel he was there, all in one piece.  
  
“Dammit, Hardison,” Eliot said, but there was more affection than annoyance behind the words.  
  
The engine roared to life as Hardison initiated a second, deeper kiss. He was a little out of breath as they broke apart.  
  
“Hardison.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You know there’s only one chair with a seatbelt back here, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And Parker’s driving.”  
  
“…oh shit.”


End file.
